


A lesson in futility

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Amasai Week 2020 [7]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Amasai Week, Amasai Week 2020, Banter, Conversations, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hugs, It's all just in dialogue, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Talents, Non-Hope's Peak AU, Rantaro is an elementary school teacher!, Rantaro's found all his sisters, Saimami Week, Saimami Week 2020, Shuichi drives a motorcycle!, Shuichi has a rough past, Shuichi writes detective novels!, Them talking about their roots and stuff, They're adults in this one, They're in love!, They're like that okay, They've come so far together, hand holding, mentions of depression, outings, past suicidal tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: “Ha ha,” Shuichi rolls his eyes, taking his helmet (and his hand) away to hang the helmets back on the bike. “Maybe you should switch from teaching to stand-up comedy,” he suggests dryly.“Maybe you should switch from writing mystery novels to professional bullying,” Rantaro retorts, reaching out to mess up his boyfriend’s hair. “Might as well make a career out of it if you’re going to do it so often, y’know?”“You’re the only person I bully,” Shuichi says. “Why demand money for it when I’m happy to do it for free?”“Oh, I see how it is,” Rantaro sniffs, and Shuichi beams back at him, reaching out to tug him into a kiss. Rantaro allows it, because he’s a weak man and he likes being kissed, but when he pulls back he mutters, “This conversation isn’t over just because you have nice lips, okay? I’m calling the police.”“Noted,” Shuichi laces their fingers together. “C’mon, it’s a bit of a walk.”---For once, Shuichi is the one taking Rantaro somewhere. It does not disappoint.---Amasai week day seven: Free space
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Amasai Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665451
Comments: 25
Kudos: 73





	A lesson in futility

**Author's Note:**

> written for amasai week day seven!!! no prompt for this one so i had to pull something out of my ass :)
> 
> oh! shuichi talks about his depression and past suicidal tendencies in this one for a bit! read with caution ily!

Rantaro is woken up by a pair of soft hands on his shoulders, shaking him just gently enough to brush off the sleep and coax him out of his pleasant, cotton coated dreams. He opens his eyes, reluctantly, trying for a moment to get his bearings, but eventually focuses in on the smell of rosemary shampoo, with the underlying, ever-present smell of books that always hovers around his boyfriend. When he finally manages to regain his sight, he meets green flecked grey eyes and smiles tiredly, lifting a hand to card his fingers through Shuichi’s dripping hair.

“I’m surprised to see you up before noon,” Rantaro murmurs, clearing his throat to push some of the thickness out of his voice. Shuichi scoffs, but the softness in his smile doesn’t diminish. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, on Rantaro’s side. Now that Rantaro is awake, he pulls his hands away, lifting the fluffy white towel that rests around his shoulders to rub his hair down. There’s a blow dryer plugged in off to the right of the bed, so presumably the initial towel down is just so he can dry his hair enough to put a shirt on. It’s no big thing for Rantaro, seeing Shuichi shirtless, so like… whatever. But it couldn’t be any clearer that he just got out of the shower. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s a nice day,” Shuichi says, which could mean anything from moderate sunshine to absolute gloom, seeing as Shuichi flourishes in the rain, but okay. “And we don’t have plans, so… I thought that I’d take  _ you  _ somewhere for once. Spice things up a little, y’know?” he reaches out with a slightly wet hand to squeeze Rantaro’s shoulder. “Is that okay?”

“‘f course,” Rantaro is, naturally, a bit curious as to what Shuichi’s got planned, but any speculation can wait until after he’s showered and begun to feel like a real person again. He pushes the blanket off himself all the way, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and Shuichi moves to stand and walk over to dry his hair, but before he can Rantaro catches his arm, tugging him in for a kiss. Shuichi’s lips taste like minty toothpaste, which is definitely a sharp contrast to Rantaro’s, which probably taste like morning breath, but Shuichi allows the kiss for a moment longer than he should before pulling away, a teasing smile softening his eyes.

“Into the shower with you before I call Kaito to borrow his hose,” Shuichi threatens, nudging Rantaro with his arm, and Rantaro laughs, stepping over piles of clothing in the direction of the bathroom. The window is still all steamed up from Shuichi’s shower. Before he gets there, he grabs a clean towel from the closet, and some clothes for the day-- he doesn’t pay a lot of attention to what he chooses but he makes sure to have several undershirts because he gets cold easily-- to set on the sink while he showers.

Before closing the door, Rantaro calls out, “I love you!” and hears Shuichi’s laugh as he turns around.

“Right, because I’m never going to see you again,” Shuichi gives a lopsided, beautiful smile, and Rantaro wishes he could take pictures with his brain, because it makes his heart stutter. “I love you too,” he adds regardless, eyes rolling fondly, and Rantaro smiles like an idiot as he closes the door.

After four years, the words  _ I love you  _ have ceased to make Rantaro’s world hiccup. They say it constantly; waking each other up in the morning, going on dates around the park, as they head uptown to visit Rantaro’s sisters, between kisses, whatever. They’re just words, really. Still, it blows his mind that after  _ four years,  _ Shuichi has never once just let it hang in the air. He always has to say it back. That’s probably just because of the way that Shuichi is, meticulous and easily stressed, but still, it’s… a wonderful trait to have.

Rantaro peels off his sweaty pajamas and climbs into the shower, turning the knob as far as it’ll go to the left. Shuichi always uses up all the hot water, and this time is no exception: a lukewarm stream trickles down onto Rantaro’s head, flattening his bangs against his forehead and pouring into his eyes. This is exactly why he usually gets to take the first shower. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s a bit too warm and drowsy to be taking a scalding shower right now anyway, and besides, the colder the water is, the less time he’ll spend ruminating under it.

So Shuichi has somewhere he wants to take Rantaro, huh? It’s kind of weird to think about, that this is the first time it’s been Shuichi leading the adventure and not the other way around. After four years of dating, over nine of being close friends, you’d think there’d be a little more variety to their daily lives… it’s kind of Rantaro’s thing, though. That’s how they met, back in their early twenties; Rantaro was finishing up his search for his sisters, finding them in all sorts of places around the world, and Shuichi was in Massachusetts for university, and neither of them was there forever, obviously, but they found each other again when they returned to Japan.

(It’s actually pretty easy to keep in touch with people, if you really want to. And Rantaro did. Really want to, that is.)

There’s no real point in wondering about where it is that Shuichi wants to take him, though Rantaro can’t deny he’s curious. (He hums to himself as he massages the shampoo out of his skull, breathing through his mouth as soapy water runs past his nose. Showers, man.) Presumably it’s somewhere that makes Shuichi happy to be, but where could they go that Rantaro hasn’t already been? Sure, there are things about Shuichi’s past that Rantaro doesn’t know-- or doesn’t understand-- but he’d like to think he has a pretty full understanding of the places that occupy space in his boyfriend’s heart. That’s a frequent topic of conversation for them, after all. Their spaces. Rantaro’s been to so many libraries in the past four years, it’s almost unreal.

It’s been nice, though. Rantaro turns off the faucet and squeezes the water from his hair before stepping out onto the mat. It’s always nice seeing into other people’s minds, finding out what matters to them and what helps them sleep at night. Rantaro used to have so many problems with showing himself to people, used to think that it would make him lesser if someone else saw him cry. (He still struggles with that, sometimes, even now, being thirty three years old.) But a little bit of vulnerability goes a long way. He carries little pieces of his loved ones along with him everywhere he goes. Life is a lot less lonely that way.

Rantaro brushes his teeth and leaves the bathroom, his hair gathered up in the towel so he won’t get his shirt(s) wet. Shuichi, thoroughly blow dried and ready to go by now, is sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone. He turns it off when he hears Rantaro stepping out, looking up immediately. Something flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone a moment later, replaced for an affectionate smile, and he raises a hand to wave.

“That was the fastest shower you’ve ever taken,” Shuichi praises. Absolutely shameless.

“This is why you’re such a menace to take camping, Mister Hot Water,” Rantaro grumbles in reply, messing up his hair. It’s always so soft after he showers, and Rantaro has this at the front of his mind as he takes an extra moment to run his fingers through it. Shuichi pouts, but leans into the touch; a sign that no matter how undignified he acts when Rantaro ruffles his hair, he really doesn’t mind it. “I’m gonna dry my hair and I’ll be ready to go. Do I get a hint about where we’re going?”

“Hmm, no,” Shuichi smiles, standing up and leaning forward to kiss Rantaro on the corner of his mouth. “We’re taking my motorcycle, though,” he adds, thoughtfully. Rantaro nods. He likes riding Shuichi’s motorcycle. It’s loud and obnoxious but there’s something brilliant about going fast down the road with the wind whipping past you. It’s preferable to cars, which are hot and crowded and small, all low roofs and tight walls. Yeesh. Living car-free is the easiest thing that Rantaro can do for the environment right now. It’s great that it’s also one of the best.

“You’d be a fantastic male romantic lead in a teen movie,” Rantaro remarks, moving over towards the blow dryer, which is still out. He drops his towel around his shoulders as he picks it up, pressing the button that makes the air hot. “You’re quiet and thoughtful, and you drive a motorcycle. American girls would go crazy over you.”

Shuichi snorts. “I’m a bit too  _ old  _ for that, Rantaro,” he chastises, grabbing his jacket (it’s leather, a thirtieth birthday present from their friend Kaede, who said it was about time he started his mid-life crisis. It was a joke, obviously, since thirty is hardly one’s  _ mid-life,  _ but she probably got it because Shuichi’s much too conservative to buy something like that for himself) and tugging it on. Since he’s wearing a dark turtleneck and jeans, it’s safe to assume that it’s not particularly sunny. Before turning on the blow dryer, Rantaro pushes the curtains to the side to peer outside. Overcast, but bright out, like the clouds might part and reveal a crystal-blue sky. Shuichi will be in trouble if that happens.

“What, thirty two?” Rantaro grins. “I know you talk like an old man, but you’re not  _ that  _ old,” he laughs at the annoyed look on his boyfriend’s face, and then even harder when Shuichi seizes a beanie of his from the floor and throws it at him. “If anything,” he manages between laughs. “I’m the old one, and you’ve just committed senior abuse.”

“Barely,” Shuichi rolls his eyes. “I meant I’m too old to be kissing any teenage girls.”

“Well, I’d hope you wouldn’t be doing that anyway.”

“I’m going into the kitchen,” Shuichi huffs, storming to the door. Rantaro takes the opportunity to turn on the blow dryer, still chuckling a bit. He catches Shuichi’s gaze when he peeks over his shoulder, mouthing  _ I love you,  _ and since it’s a tradition, Rantaro mouths it back, though he turns his attention onto the drawer where the blow dryer was resting a moment ago to find his hairbrush. Blow drying his hair is always so much, loud and hot air irritating his neck and making his scalp burn when he leaves it one spot for two long, but it’s rewarding in the aftermath. Shuichi’s hair is still softer, but Rantaro definitely doesn’t hate to feel his after it dries.

When he’s finished, he steps into his shoes (no laces, because he’s a real mad lad) and grabs a pullover sweatshirt, too, despite the three shirts he’s already wearing. He turns off the light in their bedroom and closes the door behind himself to spot Shuichi, standing in the hall with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s on his phone again, his brow furrowed just the slightest bit, but the click of the door closing alerts him to Rantaro’s presence, and he jumps a bit, a smile appearing on his face automatically as he slides his phone into his pocket. Rantaro opens his mouth to ask if everything’s alright.

“You always take so long drying your hair,” Shuichi wrinkles his nose, pushing off the wall and nudging Rantaro with his shoulder. Message received; he doesn’t want to be asked. That’s alright. If it’s a real, serious problem, then it’ll resurface later and they can talk about it. Maybe the spot that Shuichi wants to show him is emotionally charged in some way, and he’s nervous about it. Rantaro slides his arms around Shuichi’s waist, kissing him on the forehead.

“Considering that I just took a cold shower,” Rantaro begins, coaxing a preemptive laugh out of his boyfriend. “I don’t think you have aaany wiggle room, buddy.”

“Don’t call me what you call your first years,” Shuichi protests, tilting up his face with a small smile. Rantaro purses his lips, but loses the expression when Shuichi leans up to kiss him. It’s a very short, chaste kiss, and Shuichi ends it too, leaning away with his cheeks very slightly reddened. Rantaro has to wonder about that, because it’s been ages since Shuichi has gotten flustered over a kiss as shallow as that. He doesn’t comment, though, just interlocks his fingers with Shuichi’s as they head to the door.

“Want me to carry your backpack for you?” Rantaro offers, following Shuichi out of their apartment complex and into the parking lot, where he parks his motorcycle. Shuichi hums, tossing him one of the helmets, and nods his head.

“I suppose it’ll be easier for you to hold onto me if I’m not wearing a backpack, just be careful, alright? Our lunches are in there,” he inclines his head slightly, shrugging off the backpack. “It’s nothing too, ah, precarious, but still, err on the side of caution.”

Rantaro nods, sliding the backpack over his shoulders before he puts on the helmet Shuichi tossed him. It earns him a small smile, a very good reward by any means, as Shuichi swings his leg over the side of his bike and gestures for Rantaro to hop on. Shuichi has pretty awful circulation, but his midsection is still warm when Rantaro curls his arms around, resting his chin, which pokes out from the bottom of the helmet, on his shoulder. The motorcycle revs a few times, and then Shuichi drives it out of the parking lot and onto the street. He’s a menace in a car, especially on the highways (he just… likes speeding, apparently) but he does alright with motorcycles. Rantaro trusts his driving abilities, at any rate. Their helmets knock together a couple times as Shuichi maneuvers through the residential streets, but it’s a smooth trip, for the most part.

They cut through the metropolitan area of their neighbourhood before exiting it entirely, the buildings looming tall and oppressive over their heads. On a sunny day, they might block out the light, but with this grey cloudiness that Shuichi considers ideal for a picnic, the lighting is pretty much the same everywhere. Rantaro closes his eyes for a while, leaning into the turns and listening to the sounds of traffic, of voices floating past his ears, and feels Shuichi hum against his chest. He’s still kind of tired, though the shower and the blow drying definitely helped perk him up a bit. Maybe he should’ve gone for coffee, but unlike his heathen of a boyfriend, he doesn’t really like the flavour of coffee. It’s too sour, not ideal.

Plus, he brought in a thermos of coffee to work one day and his students bombarded him with stories of how he was going to stunt his growth. It was absolutely  _ adorable  _ but they’re awfully persistent for a bunch of six and seven year olds. (Not to mention that coffee doesn’t actually stunt your growth, but considering that Rantaro doesn’t particularly want kids that young drinking coffee anyway, he didn’t enlighten them on that particular rumour. That’ll be something they can call him a traitor and a liar for later, when they all get malicious enough to use those words. Give it a few years.)

When Rantaro opens his eyes again, he sees that his surroundings are familiar once more. Small, muted houses and wild green lawns. Little kids playing outside of their houses and squealing as the motorcycle goes by, or else old couples sitting out on their porches and smiling around at the world. They’re in the neighbourhood Shuichi grew up in, where his aunt and uncle still live. And in fact, they turn on the proper corner, slowing down as they approach the small blue house in question. Shuichi parks his motorcycle in the driveway and nudges Rantaro to get off.

After pulling off his helmet, Rantaro asks, “Are you taking me to meet Akifumi and Mei again?” That would be, without hesitation, a bit redundant, since he met the two of them years ago, back when he and Shuichi were still dating casually and, like, not living together. Still, he likes Shuichi’s aunt and uncle  _ very  _ much, so he really wouldn’t mind meeting them again if that’s what Shuichi has in mind.

“Mm, I’m sure we’ll see them later regardless, but that’s not what I had planned, no,” Shuichi runs a hand through his hair to coax it out of the shape it went in when he put a helmet on it. Rantaro smiles at the gesture, feeling his heart warm. “If that was what I had planned, I wouldn’t have bothered getting up at seven to make us a lunch, since Aunt Mei would have insisted that she feed you. Since, ah, you’re too skinny, and all,” he smiles, poking Rantaro in the side. Rantaro dances away from the touch, taking Shuichi’s hand and lacing their fingers together so they can’t repeat the action, and Shuichi laughs.

“You’re one to talk,” Rantaro pouts. “What did you weigh again? Ten pounds?”

“Ha ha,” Shuichi rolls his eyes, taking his helmet (and his hand) away to hang the helmets back on the bike. “Maybe you should switch from teaching to stand-up comedy,” he suggests dryly.

“Maybe you should switch from writing mystery novels to professional bullying,” Rantaro retorts, reaching out to mess up his boyfriend’s hair. “Might as well make a career out of it if you’re going to do it so often, y’know?”

“You’re the only person I bully,” Shuichi says. “Why demand money for it when I’m happy to do it for free?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Rantaro sniffs, and Shuichi beams back at him, reaching out to tug him into a kiss. Rantaro allows it, because he’s a weak man and he likes being kissed, but when he pulls back he mutters, “This conversation isn’t over just because you have nice lips, okay? I’m calling the police.”

“Noted,” Shuichi laces their fingers together. “C’mon, it’s a bit of a walk.”

Rantaro is tempted to make some sort of crack about Shuichi voluntarily going somewhere that requires him to walk for a long time in retaliation for for the bullying, but he keeps it to himself, because Shuichi’s smile is present but there’s… something anxious about it. Shuichi is fairly vocal about his emotions, in that he’s never been the type of person to bottle things up if he can help it, and of course he’s prone to anxiety but the fact that he’s not verbalising what’s making him nervous is a bit worrisome. Rantaro is again trying not to stress himself out over things that may or may not be extremely trivial, but he can’t help wondering about it anyway.

What could it be about this place that’s making Shuichi stress out? If he hasn’t shown it to Rantaro after all this time together, it must be very important to him… maybe that’s it? Maybe he’s just worried about how Rantaro is going to react? If that’s the case, then he has nothing to worry about, because no matter what it is that Shuichi is going to show him now, there’s no way Rantaro could have a negative response to it. He leans over to kiss Shuichi on the cheek as they walk further away from his uncle’s house, to a less populated part of the neighbourhood, as though in a feeble attempt at soothing his anxiety.

It seems to help somewhat. The look Shuichi gives him is warm. He has a lot of those, warm looks and soft smiles. He can be harsh too, unyielding and angry, but he’s good at… communication. And owning up to the things that he’s done wrong, or that hurt him in some way. Rantaro’s always been so emotionally constipated. He had a few experiences with dating prior to falling for Shuichi-- he dated Kaede for a while-- but they all ended the exact same way; he was broken up with because they felt like they couldn’t communicate with him, like he was a brick wall of emotional ineptitude and all their attempts to reach out fell short. It’s understandable. Rantaro wasn’t exactly an easy person to get along with in his adolescence.

Sure, he seemed agreeable enough to friendly acquaintances, and even to the more distant friends, but his closer friends, he almost lost nearly all of them because he was so difficult to get through to. He was going through a lot back then. It’s been seven years since he found all his sisters, brought them back home to Japan, but… even after that, it was hard to really be friends with him. And it’s not owed…  _ entirely,  _ to Shuichi, that he’s gotten better at being vulnerable. Talking about emotions and all that. That would be a bit excessive, even (especially?) in a relationship as intimate as theirs is. But Shuichi’s definitely helped.

They come up to an old, abandoned construction site. There’s a faded white sign standing in the rubble, saying something about future renovations, but it’s covered in graffiti, so Rantaro thinks it’s safe to say that those renovations have been long forgotten. Shuichi steps over the orange construction tape, which isn’t difficult considering that it’s sagging in many places, and lifts his hand as Rantaro does the same. The fact that they’re trespassing briefly crosses Rantaro’s mind, but he’s done waaay worse while he was looking for his sisters. Besides, there’s no better way to get him to go somewhere than by showing him a sign that says DO NOT ENTER. It’s… an awful example to set for his first years. He’s glad that none of them are here right now to see this.

Shuichi cuts across the site like it’s muscle memory, hopping over pieces of broken concrete and dusty twigs. He’s so graceful, Rantaro almost feels like he’s weighing him down by holding his hand. But Shuichi wears a broad smile when he looks back at him, guiding him around an old, half decimated duplex and a thick ring of evergreen trees. The smell of dust, of hot summer wind, fades away in the shade of the trees, and Rantaro feels the squish of moss underneath his feet. This is a nice enough spot on its own, but Shuichi takes him even further, through the trees and out onto a dry, pale brown patch of ground, spreading out several yards ahead of them before stopping abruptly, in a jagged cliff that overlooks a large, clear lake. It must be hundreds of feet down there, wide and rippling in the wind.

They’re standing at the very edge of the valley. Rantaro peers curiously over the edge, gaze catching on scraggly green bushes and old pieces of litter, scattered throughout the expanse of jagged brown earth. Across the valley Rantaro sees buildings, bridges and railings, red and green lights flickering through the grey of the morning.

A gentle gust of wind picks up, but it’s hardly a disturbance. On the contrary; it snaps Rantaro out of his daze and he turns his head, meeting Shuichi’s nostalgic expression with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s been years since I’ve been here,” Shuichi murmurs. Not much of an explanation, but his tone is distant, and Rantaro thinks it’s best to just let him talk. Shuichi unlaces their fingers and walks over to the lone tree that stands tall on the cliff. It must have been deciduous once, as the limbs are long and wavy and bare, but it’s late summertime now, and all the trees have their leaves back once again. No, this tree is dead, and must have been for a long time. Shuichi brushes his fingers over a spot level with his stomach. Rantaro notices the kanjis in Shuichi’s name engraved in the trunk in the messy kind of penmanship you could only see from a child. “I used to come here to calm down, but since I started seeing you I stopped really needing that.”

“Mm,” Rantaro rubs the back of his neck, entranced with Shuichi’s slow, dreamlike movements, but eventually turns his gaze back to the valley, staring down into the water. “You came here a lot growing up?”

“Found the spot when I was eight. That’s the last time my parents ever called, asking my aunt and uncle to take care of me just a little longer,” his smile becomes bittersweet, his gaze affixing itself to the grey sky. “Uhm, I don’t think I told you that story. It’s not particularly sad, or anything, I just never know how to talk about it. My uncle said that if they were going to keep saying those types of things, that they should just transfer custody of me over to him and Aunt Mei and let them raise me for real. He only said it because he was angry, but my parents thought it was a very good idea.”

Rantaro presses his lips together to keep from speaking. He knows the gist of the story of Shuichi’s parents, how they abandoned him in Japan to pursue Hollywood careers without any hinderance, but it still doesn’t make him any less angry to hear about. That’s not why Shuichi is telling him, though, so he maintains his silence, watches the strange look on Shuichi’s face as he speaks.

“I wasn’t angry at Uncle Akifumi, you know,” Shuichi fiddles with the inside of his pocket, biting the inside of his cheek. “He’s been more of a father to me than my own ever was, and the same goes for Aunt Mei. I love them a lot, and even back then I knew that my parents’ negligence wasn’t their fault. I still needed time to process the sudden permanence of the situation, though. That’s how I found this spot,” and wistfully, softly, Shuichi adds under his breath, “There was a time when I thought… this was a last resort kind of place. I’d stare over the edge, standing right where you are, actually, and… imagine falling.”

“Oh,” Rantaro breathes out, suddenly realising what Shuichi is saying. And he’s, he’s seen the scars that line the insides of Shuichi’s thighs, his wrists, and they’ve talked about it. They’ve talked through Shuichi’s relapses, the occasional (albeit rare) depressive episode that springs up when neither of them is expecting it. “Then why’d you…”

  
“Decide not to?” Shuichi meets his gaze, smiling. There’s nothing wry or bitter about it, just genuine softness, and Rantaro feels himself settle in, his heart aching with how warm it is. “I don’t know. There’s never a really good reason to keep living, you know. Not like in the books or movies. At least, there wasn’t for me,” he runs a hand through his hair, the other closed into a fist in his pocket. “There was nothing noble or brave about it. My therapist, the one I was seeing back then, she told me it was brave. I didn’t think so, and I still don’t, really. I was just doing… what I always knew I would end up doing. I took the hard option because it felt… simpler. And there were things I didn’t grasp at the time, ways of recovering and taking care of myself that I wasn’t thinking about in the moment, but,” and he shrugs. “I’m here.”

It’s such a… simple way, of talking about what must have been such a terrible time for him, Rantaro feels his eyebrows knitting together. He can’t even fathom it, a world where Shuichi  _ did  _ decide to kill himself and he never would’ve met him. It sounds miserable, black-and-white, the kind of world where birds don’t sing in the morning and children don’t run barefoot in sprinkler parks. Shuichi was not a part of his life for so, so much of it, and yet right now, standing over the cliff that might’ve spelled out Shuichi’s end, once upon a time… he is such a big, fundamental part of it. Rantaro swallows hard, unsure what to say.

“I’ve never taken anybody here before,” Shuichi muses. His voice is quiet. “It always felt too personal. Exposing a part of myself to people that I’m not proud of, or happy to say existed. I put everyone around me through a lot of pain back then, even if I was trying to do damage control. There were nights where Kaito stayed up all night talking a knife out of my hand over the phone, sort of thing, y’know? That’s ugly, it’s not picturesque or poetic or… or any of that. The bad times don’t make the good ones any more poignant to me, they just give me the knowledge that they could be taken away. It feels like an oversimplification to just say  _ it’s a part of who I am, and I’m proud of all parts of me. _ I’m not. That would be a lie.”

“Shuichi--”

“That being said,” Shuichi inhales, avoiding Rantaro’s gaze now. “It  _ is  _ a part of me, and I don’t have any interest in the rest of the world seeing that, because they don’t matter to me, not where it counts, but-- but you do, Rantaro,” he looks up, and Rantaro’s heart leaps to see that his eyes are filling with tears. “You matter to me  _ so  _ much and I want you to see that, this, all of it,” he gestures aimlessly with the hand that was just in his hair, dropping it to his side. “There isn’t a single part of me that I want to hide from you, because I’ve done that before and I’m so, I’m so tired of it. I just want-- I, I’m sorry, this is so--” he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “I want for all of me, even the ugly, misshapen bits, to, to, ah, belong to you. Unreservedly. Unabashedly. Whatever you’d like.”

Biting his lip, Rantaro tries to figure out how to breath. Shuichi turns to face him, fully, and closes the distance between them, walking carefully over until they’re not even a yard apart. Then, slowly, without breaking eye contact, Shuichi sinks down onto one knee, pulling the hand that’s been in his pocket this whole time out to hover in front of him. Rantaro reaches up to cover his mouth.

“I’ve always,” Shuichi pauses, smiling shyly, “thought that commitments are… something of a lesson in futility. People make promises only to break them.  _ I’m going to change the world. I’m going to be better. I’m going to come back,”  _ his voice hitches when he says that but he powers on, more firmly. “And I wouldn’t say that’s changed, because you know that I’m a pessimist, and I will always be, but… I believe that this is the exception. I think promises are less of, uhm, unwavering vows, and more… things that you’ll sustain. Like a garden, I suppose, something that you’d take care of over time, and help to flourish, and they’ll worsen but then they’ll get better again if you put the proper amount of work into it. If you’re willing to put the proper amount of work into it, that is.”   
  
Rantaro swallows.

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Shuichi murmurs, tapping his fingers on the lid of the box in his hands. “There’s no clearer hint at my intentions than this, but aside from that, I think you must’ve started suspecting when I started the speech talk-- or maybe even before that, I’ve always been so bad at keeping secrets from you-- but I’m willing to forego the surprise, because the fact that you-- that you  _ know  _ me so well, and that it doesn’t make my skin crawl to say that… that’s everything to me, Rantaro, and you’re everything to me, and I love… everything, about you, and about us. I can’t even visualise eternity without spiraling into a panic attack but it’s alright, really, truly alright, I go through it all with you by my side. So,” he clears his throat, meeting Rantaro’s gaze. His grey eyes are blazing in this moment, such a clear, breathtaking colour, and Rantaro’s own are burning. “Rantaro Amami, I love you with everything in me,” he allows a small, small smile, “will you marry me?”

A sob makes its way out of Rantaro’s throat and he drops down onto his knees, pushing forward to throw his arms around Shuichi’s shoulders. Shuichi, who must’ve been expecting this outcome, deftly tucks the box into one hand as he catches the embrace, curling his arms around Rantaro’s waist. Instead of starting to weep, which Rantaro desperately wants to do, he manages to force out a, “Yes, holy fucking shit,  _ yes,  _ I’ll marry you,” before he buries his face into Shuichi’s neck to hide the fact that he’s crying like a baby.

“We’ll have to do it in another country,” Shuichi muses, rambling perhaps because of his nerves, which is a habit that he picked up from Rantaro (though he wears it better; he wears everything better). “As we can’t legally… do it in Japan, though it’s alright, we don’t have to move out since they’ll still recognise our marriage here. Maybe in America? I thought it might be poetic to do it in Boston, since that’s where we met, but I know you don’t like Boston much so I was thinking--”

Rantaro pulls back, out of the embrace, and shifts his hands to cup both sides of Shuichi’s face. “I love you, Shuichi, but I can’t be the only one crying right now,” he manages, hiccuping, and the laugh that Shuichi lets out is short and bell-like, delightfully warm and high.

“I’m only talking so I won’t start, you know how I am,” Shuichi replies, and true enough his eyes are brimming with tears, but Rantaro finds that he can’t feel much remorse right now. What he really wants is to kiss him, to feel the softness of Shuichi’s lips on his, and savour this moment, because things will inevitably come after this and they won’t be nearly as wonderful but right now, right  _ now,  _ everything is perfect. Rantaro can’t find a single good reason not to act on his whims, so when the eye contact gets too heavy, and a tear escapes one of Shuichi’s eyes, he leans in to take that kiss.

“I love you,” Rantaro murmurs, his voice muffled against his fiance’s (!!!) lips. “I love you so much, Shuichi, I-- god, I can’t believe you’re the one who proposed.”

“You weren’t even thinking about it, I suppose,” Shuichi teases, smiling and tilting his forehead against Rantaro’s. “Realistically, it was going to be me, since you’re so easily distracted. I feel like if you bought a ring to propose to me with, you’d end up losing it.”

“You’re so mean!” Rantaro cries. “I just agreed to marry you, what is this nonsense?”

“Nonsense that you’re going to have to put up with for the rest of your life,” Shuichi says, and Rantaro feels his heart swelling with warmth and emotion, beating so hard and so hot and so heavy that he’s not entirely unconvinced that he’s having real, actual heart palpitations. It’s a good, pleasant feeling, though; love is coursing through his veins right now and it’s coloured grey with green flecks, water-clear and full of softness. “And,” Shuichi pauses for a short moment. “I love you too.”

Because he can never leave it hanging, Rantaro supposes. He leans forward to claim another kiss, this one less chaste and more lingering, fluttering eyelashes and quick, rushed inhalations of air between movements, and decides that this is where he’d like to be forever-- if not in this exact moment, then wrapped up in Shuichi’s arms, an unmoving presence in his life, regardless of what is to come.

(The clouds overhead have begun to part, revealing a clear pale blue and golden streams of sunlight which filter down into the valley, making the water glimmer as it ripples in the breeze. Neither of them notice a thing, but later Shuichi will slide the ring onto Rantaro’s finger and he’ll see how the gorgeous green crystal he chose for it reflects the sunlight, and he’ll think about how truly, unbelievably lucky he is, to be in love like this, with such a wonderful person.)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! it's the end of amasai week! i'm really excited to see everyone's entries :)
> 
> i'm also really sad that it's over :( it's been so fun writing for these Lads and seeing how everybody else has been interpreting the prompts!! you're all so brilliant when it comes to these and i have been Fed like you would not believe this whole ass week. this has been an absolutely amazing challenge to undertake, and i've adored interacting with you guys through notes on tumblr and comments on fics.
> 
> this has been really fun!!! i've missed writing rantaro and shuichi so much!! thank you guys so much for reading and participating!! you're all so good at this!!!!!
> 
> gay rights


End file.
